Just then a crowd of generals and officers appeared. Count Paskevich had arrived, and he set off up the mountain behind which the Turks had disappeared. They were reinforced by four thousand cavalry, hidden in a depression and in gullies. From the heights of the mountain the Turkish camp, separated from us by gullies and high ground, came into view. It was late when we returned. As I rode through our camp I saw some of our wounded, five of whom died that same night or the following day. In the evening I called on young Osten-Saken,7 wounded that same day in another engagement.
I found camp life most agreeable. A cannon would wake us at sunrise. Sleeping in a tent is amazingly healthy. At dinner we would wash down Asian shashlik8 with English beer and champagne chilled in the snows of Taurus. Ours was a varied company. In General Paskevich’s tent the commanders of the Moslem regiments would gather; conversation was conducted through an interpreter. In our army there were also men of different nationalities from our Trans-Caucasian provinces and inhabitants of recently conquered regions. I looked with particular curiosity at the Yazidis,9 reputed in the East to be devil-worshippers. About three hundred families live at the foot of Mount Ararat. They have recognized the sovereignty of the Russian emperor. Their leader, a tall, ugly man in a red cloak and black cap, would sometimes come to pay his compliments to General Rayevsky, commander of all the cavalry. I tried to find out from the Yazid the truth about their creed. To my questions he replied that stories of the Yazids worshipping Satan were pure fabrication; that they believed in the one God; that, according to their law, it is indeed considered improper and ignoble to curse the Devil, since he is now an unfortunate, but in the course of time he might be forgiven, for the mercy of Allah knows no bounds. This explanation reassured me. I was very pleased for the Yazidis, in that they do not worship Satan, and their aberrations struck me now as much more excusable.
My man turned up in the camp three days after myself. He arrived with a baggage train which, although in full view of the enemy, had safely joined up with our army.
Note Throughout the whole campaign not one cart from our large baggage train was seized by the enemy. The orderliness with which this train followed the army was truly amazing.
On the morning of June 17th we once again heard cross-fire and two hours later we saw the Karabakh regiment returning with eight Turkish banners: Colonel Fridericks10 had engaged the enemy which had consolidated its position behind some stone obstructions, forced it out and driven it away. Osman-Pasha, who was commanding the cavalry, barely managed to escape.
On June 18th the camp moved to another position. On the 19th, the cannon had hardly awakened us when the whole camp was in motion. The regiments lined up; officers stood by their platoons. I was left alone, not knowing which way to go, and I let my horse gallop where God willed it to. I met General Burtsov, who told me to join the left flank. ‘What is the left flank?’ I wondered and rode on. I saw General Muravyov,11 who had been deploying the cannon. Soon the Turkish cavalry appeared, wheeling along the valley and exchanging fire with our Cossacks. Meanwhile a dense mass of their infantry was moving along the low-lying ground. General Muravyov gave orders to fire. The grape-shot struck the mass right in the middle. The Turks poured to one side and hid behind some high ground. I caught sight of Count Paskevich, surrounded by his staff officers. The Turks rounded our troops, who were separated from them by a ravine. The count sent Pushchin to inspect the ravine. Pushchin galloped off. The Turks took him for a raider and fired a salvo at him. Everyone burst out laughing. The count ordered the cannon to be brought forward and fired. The enemy scattered over the mountain and the low-lying areas. On the left flank, to which Burtsov had summoned me, fierce fighting was taking place. In front of us (opposite the centre) the Turkish cavalry was galloping. To deal with it the count sent General Rayevsky, who led his Nizhny Novgorod Regiment into the attack. The Turks vanished. Our Tartars surrounded their wounded and quickly stripped off their clothes, leaving them naked in the middle of the field. General Rayevsky stopped at the edge of the ravine. Two squadrons, having broken off from the regiment, pursued them much too far; they were rescued by Colonel Simonich.12
The fighting died down; right before our eyes the Turks started digging and dragging up rocks, fortifying their position in their usual manner. They were left in peace. We dismounted and dined on whatever there was to eat. Just then some prisoners were brought to the count; one of them was severely wounded. They were questioned. At about five o’clock the troops were once again ordered to attack the enemy. The Turks stirred behind their barricades, met us with cannon fire, after which they soon began to retreat. Our cavalry rode in front; we began to make our descent into the ravine; the earth kept crumbling and falling away under our horses’ hoofs. My horse could have fallen at any moment, and then the Combined Uhlan Regiment would have ridden over me. But God brought me through safely. Hardly had we come out on to the broad road that runs through the mountains when our entire cavalry began to gallop at full speed. The Turks fled; the Cossacks lashed the cannon that had been abandoned on the road with their whips and tore past. Now the Turks were rushing into the gullies on both sides of the road; no longer did they fire; at least, not one bullet whistled past my ears. Leading the pursuit were our Tartar regiments, whose horses are distinguished for speed and strength. My own horse, chafing at the bit, did not lag behind; I could hardly hold her back. She stopped by the body of a young Turk lying across the road. He was about eighteen, I think, and his pale, girlish face was not disfigured. His turban lay in the dust; the shaven nape of his neck had been pierced by a bullet. I rode on at walking pace; soon Rayevsky caught up with me. On a scrap of paper he wrote a message in pencil for Count Paskevich, about the complete rout of the enemy, and rode on. I followed him at a distance. Night began to fall. My weary horse fell behind and stumbled at every step. Count Paskevich ordered the men not to discontinue the pursuit and directed it himself. I was overtaken by our cavalry detachments; I caught sight of Colonel Polyakov, commander of the Cossack artillery, which had played an important role that day, and we arrived together at the abandoned settlement where Count Paskevich had stopped after calling a halt to the pursuit because of nightfall.
We found the count before a fire, on the roof of an underground hut. Prisoners were being brought to him. He was cross-examining them. Almost all their leaders were there. The Cossacks held their horses by the reins. The fire illuminated the scene, which was worthy of Salvatore Rosa; the sound of a small river could be heard in the darkness. At that moment the count was informed that stores of gunpowder had been found in the village and that an explosion was to be feared. The count left the hut with all his suite. We set off for our camp, which was about twenty miles from the place where we had spent the night. The road was filled with cavalry detachments. No sooner did we arrive than the sky was suddenly lit up as if by a meteor and we heard the dull thud of an explosion. The hut that we had left just quarter of an hour before had been blown sky-high: it was there that the gunpowder had been stored. The scattered rocks crushed a few Cossacks.
That is all that I was able to observe at the time. In the evening I discovered that in this battle the seraskier of Arzrum, who had gone to join Gaki-Pasha with thirty thousand troops, had been defeated. The seraskier fled to Arzrum; his army, scattered beyond Sagan-Lu, had been put to flight, his artillery captured and Gaki-Pasha alone remained on our hands. Count Paskevich did not give him time to rally his forces.
CHAPTER FOUR
Battle with Gaki-Pasha. Death of the Tartar commander. A
hermaphrodite. A captive Pasha. Araks. The Shepherd’s
Bridge. Hassan-Kale. A hot spring. March to Arzrum. Negotiations.
Capture of Arzrum. Turkish prisoners. A dervish.
Next day, after four o’clock, the camp awoke and the order was given to move out. After leaving my tent I met Count Paskevich, who had risen earlier than anyone else. When he saw me he asked, ‘Êtes-vous fatigué de la journée d’hier?’ ‘Mais un p
eu, m. le Comte.’ ‘J’en suis fâché pour vous, car nous allons faire encore une marche pour joindre le Pacha, et puis il faudra poursuivre l’ennemi encore une trentaine de verstes.’1
We moved off and towards eight o’clock reached some high ground, from which Gaki-Pasha’s camp was clearly visible. The Turks fired innocuously from all their batteries. Meanwhile, a great deal of movement was noticeable in their camp. Fatigue and the morning heat forced many of us to dismount and lie down on the fresh grass. I wound the reins around my hand and fell into a sweet slumber, awaiting the order to move on. A quarter of an hour later I was woken up. Everything was on the move. On one side columns advanced on the Turkish camp; on the other the cavalry was preparing to pursue the enemy. I wanted to follow the Nizhny Novgorod regiment, but my horse was limping. I fell behind. A regiment of uhlans swept past me. Then Volkhovsky galloped past with three cannon. I found myself all alone in the wooded mountains. A dragoon came towards me and announced that the woods were full of the enemy. I turned back and met General Muravyov with an infantry regiment. He had detached one squad into the woods to clear them. As I drew near the low-lying ground I witnessed an extraordinary scene. Under a tree lay one of our Tartar commanders, mortally wounded. Beside him was his favourite, sobbing. A mullah was kneeling and reciting prayers. The dying commander was extraordinarily calm and stared motionlessly at his young friend. In the low-lying area about five hundred prisoners had been assembled. Several captive Turks motioned to me, probably taking me for a doctor and asking for help which I was unable to give. Out of the woods came a Turk, pressing a bloody rag to his wound. Some soldiers went up to him with the intention of finishing him off with their bayonets, perhaps out of humanity. But this disturbed me beyond all measure; I interceded for the poor Turk and with great difficulty managed to lead him, exhausted and dripping with blood, to a small group of his comrades. With them was Colonel Anrep.2 He was amicably smoking from their pipes, despite rumours that plague had broken out in the Turkish camp. The prisoners sat there, calmly chatting among themselves. Almost all of them were young men. After a rest we pushed on. The whole road was littered with bodies. After about nine miles I found the Nizhny Novgorod regiment which had halted on the bank of a small river flowing between crags. The pursuit continued for several hours longer. Towards evening we reached a valley surrounded by dense forest, and at last I was able to sleep to my heart’s content, having galloped in these two days more than fifty miles.
Next day the troops who had been pursing the enemy received orders to return to camp. There we discovered that among the prisoners was a hermaphrodite. At my request Rayevsky ordered him to be brought to us. I saw a tall, fairly stout man with the face of an old, snub-nosed Finnish woman. We examined him in the presence of a doctor. Erat vir, mammosus ut femina, habebat t. non evolutos, p. que parvum et puerilem. Quaerebamus, sit ne exsectus? – Deus, respondit, castravit me.3 This illness, known to Hippocrates according to the testimony of travellers, is often found among Nomadic Tartars and Turks. Khoss is the Turkish name for these so-called hermaphrodites.
Our troops remained in the Turkish camp captured the day before. Count Paskevich’s tent was situated close to the large green tent of Gaki-Pasha, who had been taken prisoner by our Cossacks. I went up to him and found him surrounded by our officers. He was sitting cross-legged, smoking a pipe. He seemed to be about forty. His handsome face was a picture of dignity and profound tranquillity. When he had surrendered he had asked for a cup of coffee and to be spared any questioning.
We were encamped in a valley. The snow-capped and wooded mountains of Sagan-Lu were already behind us. We moved on, no longer encountering the enemy anywhere. The settlements were deserted. The surrounding countryside is dreary. We saw the Araks, swiftly flowing between its stony banks. About ten miles from Hassan-Kale there is a bridge, beautifully and boldly built on seven unequal arches. Legend ascribes its construction to a shepherd who had become rich and who had died a hermit on the top of a hill, where his grave, shaded by two pines, is pointed out to this day. The neighbouring villagers flock there to pay their respects. The bridge is called Chaban-Kepri (Shepherd’s Bridge). The road to Tabriz runs across it.
A few paces from the bridge I visited the dark ruins of a caravanserai. I found no one there, apart from a sick donkey, probably abandoned by fleeing villagers.
On the morning of June 24th we set off for Hassan-Kale, an ancient fortress occupied the previous day by Prince Bekovich. It was about ten miles from the place where we had spent the night. Those long marches had exhausted me. I was hoping for a rest, but things turned out differently.
Before the cavalry moved out, some Armenians who lived in the mountains came to our camp to ask for protection from the Turks, who had driven their cattle away three days before. Colonel Anrep, who had difficulty understanding what they wanted, concluded that a detachment of Turks was in the mountains and galloped off in that direction with a squadron from the Uhlan regiment, having left word for Rayevsky that in the mountains were three thousand Turks. Rayevsky followed him in order to provide reinforcements should danger threaten. I considered myself attached to the Nizhny Novgorod Regiment and, sorely vexed, galloped off to liberate the Armenians. After we had advanced about thirteen miles, we entered a village, where we saw several uhlan stragglers hurriedly pursuing a few chickens with bared sabres. One of the villagers there managed to convey to Rayevsky that the whole fuss was about three thousand oxen which had been driven away by the Turks three days before and which could very easily be caught within a couple of days. Rayevsky ordered the uhlans to discontinue their pursuit of the chickens and sent Colonel Anrep instructions to return. We rode back and after emerging from the mountains encamped outside Hassan-Kale. In consequence we had made a detour of about twenty-six miles just to save the lives of a few Armenian chickens, which did not strike me as at all funny.
Hassan-Kale is considered the key to Arzrum. The town is built at the foot of a cliff crowned with a fortress. There are as many as one hundred Armenian families living there. Our camp stood on the broad plain that unfolds before the fortress. Here I visited a circular stone building that houses a hot ferrous sulphide spring.
The round basin is about six feet in diameter. I swam across it twice and suddenly, feeling dizziness and nausea, barely had the strength to clamber out on to the stone edge. These waters are famed in the East but, lacking decent doctors, the inhabitants use them without thinking and probably without much success.
Beneath the walls of Hassan-Kale flows the little River Murts; its banks are covered with ferrous springs which gush from under the stones and flow into the river. They are not so pleasant to the taste as Caucasian narzan4 and remind one of copper.
On June 25th, the birthday of our Sovereign Emperor, the regiments held services of thanksgiving in our camp, beneath the fortress walls. During dinner at Count Paskevich’s, when we drank the Sovereign’s health, the count announced that we would be marching on Arzrum. By five o’clock that afternoon the troops had already moved out.
On June 26th we halted in the mountains three miles from Arzrum. These mountains are called Ak-Dag (white mountains); they are of chalk. The caustic white dust made our eyes smart; their melancholy appearance induced sadness. The proximity of Arzrum and the certainty that the march would soon be over consoled us.
That evening Count Paskevich rode out to inspect the position. The Turkish raiders who had been circling in front of our pickets all day started firing at him. The count threatened them several times with his whip, without interrupting his discussion with General Muravyov. We did not return their fire.
Meanwhile there was great confusion in Arzrum. The seraskier, who had fled to the city after his defeat, had spread the rumour that the Russians had been utterly routed. Following in his footsteps, some released prisoners had conveyed news of Count Paskevich’s appeal. The fugitives established that the seraskier had been lying. Before long they learnt of the rapid approach of the Russians. The p
eople began to talk of surrender. The seraskier and his troops considered defending themselves. A mutiny broke out. A few Franks5 were killed by the infuriated rabble.
A deputation from the people and the seraskier appeared in our camp on the morning of the 26th; the day was spent in negotiations; at five o’clock in the afternoon the envoys set off for Arzrum, and with them went General Prince Bekovich, who was well versed in Asian languages and customs.
Next morning our troops advanced. To the east of Arzrum, on the heights of Top-Dag, a Turkish battery was in position. Our regiments moved towards it, answering the Turkish fire with drum rolls and music. The Turks fled and Top-Dag was taken. I arrived there with the poet Yuzefovich.6 At the abandoned battery we found Count Paskevich with his entire suite. From the height of the mountain, in a hollow, Arzrum with its citadel, its minarets, its green roofs glued together, opened up before us. The count was on horseback. Before him, seated on the ground, were some Turkish envoys who had come with the keys to the city. But the agitation in Arzrum was plain to see. Suddenly fire flashed on the city ramparts, there was a cloud of smoke and cannon-balls came flying towards Top-Dag. Several of them whizzed over Count Paskevich’s head. ‘Voyez les Turcs,’ he told me, ‘on ne peut jamais se fier à eux.’7 Just then Prince Bekovich, who had been at the negotiations in Arzrum since the previous day, galloped up to Top-Dag. He announced that the Turkish commander and the people had agreed to surrender long ago, but that a few unruly Arnauts8 under the command of Topcha-Pasha had seized the city batteries and were rebelling. The generals rode up to the count, asking permission to silence the Turkish batteries. The dignitaries of Arzum, exposed to the fire of their own cannon, repeated the selfsame request. For some time the count hesitated; finally he gave the order to fire, with the words, ‘That’s enough of their clowning!’ Cannon were immediately brought up, firing commenced and the enemy fire gradually died down. Our regiments advanced to Arzrum and on June 27th, the anniversary of the battle of Poltava,9 at six o’clock in the evening, the Russian banner was unfurled over the citadel of Arzrum.
Tales of Belkin and Other Prose Writings Page 19